


Trapped in Yearning

by havocthecat



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Incest, amtdi, aphrodisiac, noncon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-09
Updated: 2007-11-09
Packaged: 2017-10-02 12:21:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havocthecat/pseuds/havocthecat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>As a veteran of low-cut sundresses, hot, sweaty Southern nights, and the arch of an eyebrow that can be either a come-hither look or unbelievable scorn, Janet's not one to fall for Hathor's wiles.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Trapped in Yearning

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](http://community.livejournal.com/havocs_cry/23370.html) on LJ.

When Daniel introduces Hathor and says he's bringing her in for a check-up, Janet frowns in annoyance. The woman is wearing a lush gold and scarlet bodice, and her henna red hair complements the olive tones of her skin perfectly. Hathor's costumed just right for a seduction. As a veteran of low-cut sundresses, hot, sweaty Southern nights, and the arch of an eyebrow that can be either a come-hither look or unbelievable scorn, Janet's not one to fall for Hathor's wiles.

Daniel's hanging on her every word, though, and when Hathor shoos him away, he almost falls over himself trying to rush out of Janet's infirmary. She watches him and chuckles, then turns back to Janet with an amused, conspiring look. "Are men not the most easily-led of any creature imaginable?" she asks.

Janet frowns dourly. "Some people think so." She pulls her stethoscope out of her pockets and wraps the earpieces around her neck, then reaches for her clipboard and pen. It's not that she's close to Daniel, but she's irritated on Sam's behalf.

"We have often found that to be the case," says Hathor. She tilts her head and studies Janet. "Do you not?"

"Not particularly," mutters Janet. She marks 'Hathor' down under 'Name of Patient,' and rechannels the urge to roll her eyes into a slight moue of distaste.

"Janet." Hathor leans forward, and Janet doesn't stare at Hathor's cleavage. She's got plenty of practice not noticing beautiful women. When Hathor takes her hand, Janet tries to tug free, but she can't. Hathor holds on tightly and brings Janet's hand closer to her. "It has been many years since a woman has kept company with us, but we find you engaging."

"We?" Sandalwood and cedar fill the air, underlaid by sand and a sharp scent Janet can't identify. As she inhales, Janet realizes the room is permeated with it. She looks up into the Nile-green depths of Hathor's eyes and when she sees them, Janet knows why Daniel is infatuated.

Her clipboard drops from her fingers and clatters to the ground, but the noise is a distant echo when the only thing filling her ears is the wind scouring against limestone. "We have heard many stories of you, Janet," says Hathor.

"Stories?" Janet ventures a cautious, hesitant smile, and basks in the hard-edged sunlight of Hathor's approval. "About me?"

"Your Daniel is very fond of you," says Hathor. "We were, for a moment, tempted to share our beloved with you, but then we decided that we must first judge your worthiness."

"Worthiness?" Janet shakes her head. Hathor's skin almost glows, and the brightness is fogging her thoughts. "I have to do a medical exam. To determine if you're a--"

Hathor places her hands on Janet's hips. "Such quaint garments," she says, and when her breath skims across Janet's neck, Hathor draws the zipper of Janet's skirt down. "Let us rid you of them."

"No--" Janet can't do this, it's a court-martial if they're caught. She won't let Hathor do this, but she can't move away. Hathor strips Janet's clothing, her hands and mouth exploring Janet's body, making her tremble. It's both arousal and fear.

She pushes back and lays Janet down on one of the infirmary cots. There's something horrible in the way Janet's arms are lying, leaden and motionless, at her side. She can't muster the strength to move away from the wet press of Hathor's mouth against her breast.

"We have been lonely for so very many years," says Hathor. The silken perfection of her skin rasps against Janet's thighs. "Our daughters were denied to us."

Janet drags in a deep breath, but she's breathing through harsh, dry air. She knows that something is wrong, but she can't fight her way clear of the drugs. Sand clogs her nostrils, and the spirals of pleasure she can feel as Hathor pushes her fingers deeply inside Janet's cunt repel her.

At least, Janet wants them to repel her. Her fingers clutch at empty air, and Hathor chuckles as she drives Janet into a whimpering, frustrated moan. "We will not let these pitiful fools keep us from the chappa'ai." Hathor's voice is the harsh, grating tone of a goa'uld.

When Janet twists, trying to shake Hathor off, she can't muster any coordination. The only thing that moves is her head, lolling to the side. A white jar with an animal's head sits next to Janet's shoulder. It's broken in two pieces, and a goa'uld crawls from it. Janet gasps as her eyes widen in fear.

"No!" Janet cries out, but Hathor holds her down, twists her fingers _just_ right, and Janet's body is wracked by tremors as her mouth opens wide.

The goa'uld slips into Janet's mouth. She feels the traces of muck it leaves on her tongue; it tastes like something rotten and decaying. In a burst of pain, it shoves its way inside Janet's body. She feels it wind around her spinal column. Her screams are loud, echoing through the infirmary and into the hallway.

The world vanishes in a flare of gold light.

"Mother." Her voice is metal, and her blood is fire. She raises herself up, every gesture smooth and liquid. Her mother's fingers slip out of this body she now owns. Only a Goddess has the right to share pleasure with another Goddess.

"Dearest Nepthys." Her mother's hands cup her face, and they pull together for a long, deep kiss.

Nepthys reaches for the clasp behind her mother's neck and unhooks it. She tugs the dress down and bares her mother's breasts. "There is much we must accomplish," says her mother, chiding her as she closes her hand around Nepthys' new, slender fingers.

"These men are already yours," says Nepthys. Her mouth curves into a tiny, vicious smile as her strength and her host's knowledge allow her to slip her hand free. She twists at Hathor's nipple and grabs her mother's wrist, pulling her close. "_I_ am your beloved daughter. There is time."

Hathor's soft laughter echoes in her ears as Nepthys dismisses the soft, fluttering presence in her mind.

\--end--


End file.
